


and then you make it out (the taste so sweet)

by streimel



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Lactation Kink, M/M, Male Lactation, One Shot, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 05:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14182086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streimel/pseuds/streimel
Summary: “I do it,” he offers quietly, and whether Olli doesn’t hear it or just chooses to ignore him, he’s not sure. “I do it for you,” he repeats, a little more emphatically this time, and Olli looks up at him in the reflection of the mirror, holding his gaze as if he’s trying to figure out what ulterior motive he has.





	and then you make it out (the taste so sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> _"You know the feeling_  
>  When you're in too deep  
> And then you make it out  
> The taste so sweet  
> So sweet."  
>   
> pretty sure this is the second time I've used this Dave Matthews Band song for a working title...
> 
>  
> 
> **Would probably make more sense if you read 'you can see the world you brought to life first' buttt to each their own**

It’s a perfectly shitty night in and of itself, to begin with.

There’s so little optimism to be found in the current situation, Geno hardly sees the point in trying. It’s December 27th, and they’re in fucking _Winnipeg_. His phone tells him it’s exactly 0 degrees, but with the wind chill, it feels like a balmy -9. Just walking from the bus to inside the hotel lobby was enough to leave him frozen; his lips, already barely holding themselves together, had split in two places. They’ve won a total of five games in almost six weeks, they’ve fired their head coach, and they’re currently boasting a losing record.

Things _could_ be better.

As if things did not suck enough, it’s two days after Christmas and Geno hasn’t seen his daughter since Christmas Eve, at least not in person. He and Olli will be home tomorrow, for a small break before the New Year, but tomorrow feels as if it might as well be forever away. When Geno gets to their hotel room, he haphazardly drops his duffel bag at the door with one hand, other hand opening the email that’s been waiting for him since before he took to the ice back in Minny. He’d seen it at dinner, phone buzzing in his pocket with the notification, but left it when he had seen who it was from.

Tiina’s subject line is the embodiment of who she is, an enthusiastic **WATCH!!!!!** shouting up at him from his screen, and he hits the download button on the box, waiting for the video to pop up. Geno’s heart beats a little faster as it loads, a familiar feeling of anticipation and regret; he’s more than grateful for the army of family members, friends, and nannies that watch Sofia in his and Olli’s absence, but every video sent reminds of what they’re missing out on. At times, he feels they’ll come back, even from an overnight trip, and Sofia will be running around, talking, getting into her car and driving off to college and he won’t remember when she grew up.

Geno hits the play button as the room door beeps, and he hears a quiet “ah, fuck” a moment later as Olli trips over the bag he dropped right inside the door. There’s a muted thud, followed by the bag sliding into the room, before the bathroom door opens and closes. It’s all background noise as Geno watches Tiina get the camera straight, Sofia kicking her legs in the air as Tiina talks to her in Finnish. Tiina shifts the camera, apparently to one hand, and Geno watches as she moves a toy across Sofia’s line of vision above her face, slow enough for Sofia to track it. Tiina places the toy on the floor to the right of Sofia, just far enough away that she can’t quite grab it, and Geno feels his heart clench as she turns to look at it, leg kicking across her body as she turns onto her stomach.

“She was getting close before we left. I figured it happen soon,” Olli says from behind him, breaking his reverie. Geno meets Olli’s gaze, and imagines he reflects Olli’s own demeanor - tired, sentimental. Olli gives him a little smile before turning back to his bag, sliding off his button down.

There’s a second video, and Geno brightens when he sees it’s from mealtime - Sofia’s been trying new foods every day, and her responses are always nothing short of comical. She buzzes excitedly in her high chair when Tiina puts down the bowl of pureed peaches in front of her, but shudders at the first taste, the look of betrayal she gives Tiina so severe Geno can’t help but laugh. Sofia allows a second, painful try, and cries pitifully when Tiina attempts a third spoonful, sound rising an octave as it turns to a cry Geno recognizes as hunger.

There’s a frustrated “ _mitä_ _vittua_ ” behind him, and Geno turns to see Olli pressing a palm to the flat of his chest, covering one nipple; there’s a trickle of milk dripping from beneath his palm. Now that Sofia’s eating solids, Olli hasn’t been producing as much, but a good 10 or 11 hours without expressing usually leads to Olli being extra sensitive to any triggers to feed, including Sofia crying.

“Leak?” Geno asks, getting up to help, and Olli near vibrates with annoyance as he sits down on the bed, reaching for his discarded shirt.

“Yeah, my milk let down when I heard her,” Olli says, dabbing away at the milk stream with his button-down. “Can you get the pump out of my bag?”

Geno digs in Olli’s travel bag, looking for case with the travel pump in it. He pushes aside Olli’s toiletry bag, looks under the shoe bag, checks the side pocket, but there’s no sign of the pump. Geno does a once over while Olli watches him in growing concern, and shoots him a look that must be telling enough for Olli to simply understand.

“I had it in Minnesota this morning,” Olli attempts, borderline desperate. “I took a shower when I woke up, then pumped and cleaned it and- oh, fuck me,” Olli says, pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand. Geno watches another drop of milk slide from under Olli’s palm, all the way down to the waist of his pants, thigh damp with it all. Olli doesn’t seem to notice, or care.

“Forget to pack it again,” Geno says, not really a question, and Olli nods, nose still pinched. Olli sighs, mumbling a string of Finnish Geno doesn’t necessarily understand but yet somehow still comprehends, and heads into the bathroom. Geno follows after a moment, feeling useless as he watches from the doorway as Olli leans over the sink, hand cupped around his nipple as he squeezes, letting the milk flow freely.

“I go to store and buy new one?” Geno tries, searching for some way to help, and Olli looks at his watch, shaking his head.

“It’s almost two AM,” Olli says, seeming resigned, “I doubt there’s anything open at the moment. And I doubt you really want to go out in this weather.”

Olli knows him too well; Geno’s body shudders as it imagines the thought of trekking out to the store right now, but he’d do it, if that’s what Olli needed. He knows the longer Olli goes without pumping, the higher the risk of infection, and while Olli could sit here and do it by hand, Geno knows it will take forever, and potentially not give him the relief he needs.

Geno watches for another moment as Olli continues to work his hand. “I do it,” he offers quietly, and whether Olli doesn’t hear it or just chooses to ignore him, he’s not sure. “I do it for you,” he repeats, a little more emphatically this time, and Olli looks up at him in the reflection of the mirror, holding his gaze as if he’s trying to figure out what ulterior motive he has.

Geno steps forward, Olli watching him still, and puts one hand on the cool skin of Olli’s shoulder. Olli doesn’t resist being turned, even lets himself be leaned back, Geno’s hand between his shoulder blades to keep him steady, and Geno waits until Olli gives him a nod and closes his eyes before Geno takes Olli’s nipple into his mouth, sucking deeply. Olli lets out a noise, half-relief and half-surprise, as the flow begins to pick up; Geno watches as Olli’s fingers cling to the edge of the sink, white-knuckled as they bend around the marble. Olli’s milk is thin, warm, and very sweet, and Geno finds he simply needs to swallow, the milk flowing freely.

“I can’t do this,” Olli says after a moment, tensing under Geno’s touch, and Geno pulls off, looking up at him.

“Not help?” Geno asks, feeling a drop of milk at the corner of his mouth, and Olli watches him intensely as he pokes at it with the tip of his tongue, licking it into his mouth. It seems to take Olli a moment to come back to Earth.

“What, no. This position is just killing my back.”

It would be impossible to not look at Olli like he’s a banquet spread out like a feast, so Geno doesn’t try to act like he’s not drinking his fill when Olli spreads out across the bed. Olli crosses his arms behind his head and closes his eyes, looking something between impassive and sacrificial as he waits for Geno to continue. And Geno really means to get back to it, but there’s just something about Olli’s body now he can’t stop appreciating; the profound juxtaposition of the build of an athlete, something Olli had worked hard to recover, covered by a softness, by thin, jagged white marks crossing his hips, his chest, his stomach, the remainders of his journey and the life he had created.

Geno places one hand to the left of Olli’s navel, feeling the soft skin there bunch under his palm, not resist, and Olli shifts, head tilting back.

“Geno, please,” Olli says, not quite a whine but close enough it might as well have been one, and Geno puts a knee down on the bed between Olli’s legs, watching them part just a little more, almost instinctively. Geno presses down into Olli, chest laid across Olli’s hips as he gets at a good angle, and drops his head to Olli’s nipple, taking it into his mouth again. Geno feels the tension flow out of Olli, body melting into the bed and bringing them both down into the mattress. Olli’s hand threads through his hair, palm flat against the curve of his skull, fingers rubbing circles into his skin; Olli holds him just like he’s Sofia, and Geno's not sure how he feels about that.

Olli tugs at his hair after a few minutes, signaling for him to switch. Geno props himself up on his elbows for a moment, getting some pressure off Olli’s body before he starts on the other side. When he looks at Olli’s face, Olli is watching him from beneath his eyelashes, acting too casual to not be conspicuous. Geno worries at his bottom lip with his tongue as he presses back down into Olli, and Olli’s nipple rises to meet his mouth as Olli’s chest rises with a sharp breath. Geno rests against Olli fully, and the heat and weight of Olli’s arousal presses like a knife into his sternum; at first, Geno thinks he must be mistaken, but one roll of his body down against Olli’s hips is enough to convince him otherwise.

“Geno, it’s not-” Olli starts, tensing underneath him, and a little milk spills from Geno’s mouth when he pulls off to answer. He laps at it as it drips down the side of Olli’s pectoral muscle, and Olli makes a shocked, wanting noise.

“Not what?” Geno asks, tongue pressed against Olli’s nipple as the milk continue to flow, and Olli’s breath rushes out all at once, making his chest fall and rise back into Geno’s mouth.

“It’s not _okay_ ,” Olli elaborates, seeming ashamed.

Geno doesn’t stop, even when he’s mouthing out a response. “It’s fine, nothing wrong,” he says, before pressing down against Olli’s dick again, and Olli shivers below him.

“Geno,” Olli says, sounding serious, and Geno pops his head up. He pinches Olli’s nipple lightly to stop the flow for a moment, and Olli cries out, loudly, dick catching in the space between Geno’s ribcage.

“It’s okay you like this,” Geno says, trying to soothe, not coerce, and Olli’s got one hand in the duvet, one hand in Geno’s hair, both fisted tight, holding on to stay grounded. One drop wells up even through the pressure, and Geno swipes it away with the pad of his finger, Olli’s breath catching in his throat. “It’s okay it feels good,” he soothes quietly, mouth pressed to the space just below Olli’s collarbone, and Olli hums a response.

“Fuck, G, just keep going. I’m almost done.”

Geno’s not sure what Olli means, but he’s more than willing to keep providing Olli what he needs, see him through to the end, whether that’s easing his discomfort or bringing him to completion, it doesn’t matter. So Geno brings his mouth back down, so gentle, and if his hand ends up tucked between them, at first just resting along the line of Olli’s zipper, then hastily shoved down the front of Olli’s underwear when the pants end up pushed to the tops of Olli’s thighs but there’s not enough time for any more pointless undressing, well, those are the circumstances. Geno ends up with a sticky hand and a sticky mouth, and lays against Olli, face pressed into the space in the middle of his chest, where his skin still smells of sweet milk, even though he’s been emptied. Olli chest rises unsteadily for a long time, and the very idea of it all completely thrills Geno.

“You’ll have to do this in the morning, too,” Olli says, pragmatic as ever, and Geno smiles into his skin. “I should be fine until we get home after that.”

“Do this for you whenever,” he promises, and the hand that had been rubbing Geno’s shoulders stills for a moment before tapping at it twice, urging Geno to move off.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Olli says over his shoulder as he walks to the bathroom, and Geno sits on the edge of the bed as Olli runs water in the sink, feeling almost smug. Olli comes back a moment later, naked, clean, and damp, and stands in the space of Geno’s legs.

“Look at me,” Olli asks more than says, and Geno turns his face up. Olli’s got a washcloth in one hand, but takes Geno’s chin in the other, turning his face up even more. Geno knows what he’s looking at, and smiles for Olli, turning up the milk-wet corners of his mouth. Olli makes a sound, not unlike he’s been checked into the boards, and leans down before Geno expects it, pressing a hard kiss to that smile, intense and fleeting before it’s over and the washcloth is replacing him, warm as Olli cleans his mouth.

“Thank you,” Olli says, looking at him while he takes Geno’s hand to clean.

Geno brings Olli back down to him, mouth asking a question, and this time, Olli answers.

**Author's Note:**

> mitä vittua - what the fuck


End file.
